One thing I noticed is that we are not nearly as zombie like this time around, comparatively to when our first was born. When our little Wonder woman was born, we survived off of Starbucks and Swiss Chalet. I had the brilliant idea of taking full-time classes that semester, which resulted in me sitting in a classroom with my eyes glazed over because all my energy was being used to sit upright, let alone pay attention.
This time, whether it be because we are seasoned experts, or this kid just happens to be the most chill baby to roam the earth, we are actually functioning like normal human beings. Well, as normal as we get at least 😉
One thing that is only normal when you have a newborn are conversations about poop. Poop is a good thing when you have a baby, it means that everything is functioning and you are good to go. Then there are the poop charts. Now, if you have never had a kid, you would probably be slightly confused by the existence of such a chart, but those suckers are handy. With the new kid, we found ourselves talking about poop quite a bit.
You see, I didn’t breast feed, so the baby started off right away on formula. Well, just like a new car, you don’t know how it all works until you’ve had it for a while, so you have to watch out for things like allergies and intolerance…and this is how it starts. Before we knew it, we were calling each other in to the baby’s room to see what the poop was like. Then analyzing it against what the internet said was normal. Yep, we were those parents. We were suspicious of a dairy intolerance and were worried that we needed to change something. Keep in mind, all of this came from the new baby paranoia that parents get. The baby was completely fine. Not fussy at all, no redness or rashes to suggest she was allergic to anything, it was 100% our over analyzation of her poop. Don’t judge! New parents do it…it’s a thing, thus the poop chart.
Well, after a few weeks we figured that she was functioning fine and the poop chart was no longer required. An unfortunate and unforeseen product of our poop paranoia was that our little one came to believe that we were hardcore poop enthusiasts. To be fair, who could blame her? We were talking poo poo talk every time she popped some out, so it was a natural assumption to be made. Like any new kid entering in to the world, she grasped on to what she knew and she knew how to make some poop. Which created quite the stinky situation.
It didn’t matter where you were in the house, you always knew when little baby Arrow was providing a contribution to her parents’ poop hobby. The words, “Oh no,” said with varying levels of enthusiasm would come drifting down the hall, away from whoever was experiencing the love at the change table. It is in the moments like that, that you realize how much you truly love these tiny humans. They can time their poops with such precision that the warm, gooey deposit finds its way directly into the palm of your hand as you are trying to change their bum. After the “oh no,” leaves your mouth you look up at the source of this poop, the poopetrator so to speak, and there they are. Smiling at you with the most adorable, contagious smile, just absolutely brimming with pride over what they were able to accomplish. To be fair, many adults would give anything to poop with such ease. You realize then, something that most parents realize at some point in their life…that this kid can crap on me over and over and over again, and I will still love her and protect her with every fiber of my existence.
Pre-poop… Post poop triumph!